CHAPTER XXXIII
PERE ANDRE LAFOSSIER
"You treacherous, white-headed old villain," I exclaimed angrily, "I amhalf inclined to kill you for so savage a trick. Odds! but my armfeels as if it were broken."
The fellow grinned at me, showing his yellow fangs.
"I care not if you kill," he answered, with true Indian stoicism. "Iam old, and have served the Sun long. Kill, but I will not beunavenged of my people; for, whether I live or die, it mattersnot--there is no escape for you."
He spoke with such confidence as to stun me.
"No escape? Why?"
His lips curled with undisguised contempt.
"So my words sting. Well, they are true, nor am I unwilling to tellyou. You are trapped here. There is no path you can travel, either bynight or day, unseen of our people. You have already climbed along theonly passage leading here, and you dare not go back. This way you havereached the end. Behind is the village; here the altar ofsacrifice--choose either, and you die like the _Francais_ dogs you are."
"Who is here to touch us?" I asked derisively. "There is food inplenty; we can wait our chance."
"Ay, you have grace of this day in which to make ready," his wrinkledface lighting maliciously. "When yonder moon becomes round it will bethe night of sacrifice. Know you what will happen then?" he licked histhin lips greedily. "I may not be here to see, but it will be thesame. Up that path of rocks will swarm all of my race, and what thencan save you from the altar? How they will welcome the victims waitingtheir pleasure--white-faced _Francais_."
His old, deeply sunken eyes gleamed so with hatred, I drewinvoluntarily back, my blood chilled with a conviction that he did notlie.
"Here? Do you tell me the tribe comes here?"
"Ay, here, _Francais_,--here to make sacrifice of blood, that they maygo forth once more, and conquer the land of their fathers."
"'T is your custom to kill slaves?"
"When there be none better, but now we have other victims sent us bythe Sun, all _Francais_, and you two cooped up here to be added to theothers. 'T will be a sweet sacrifice, and I should like to live tohear your cries for mercy, and drink of the warm blood."
I stared at him, unable to deny our helplessness.
"You would make us believe there is no upper entrance to this accursedhole!"
"Seek as you please--there is none. You are trapped beyond struggle;you cannot escape the vengeance of the Sun."
I pointed, still incredulous, toward the great burning log.
"Did you grow yonder tree in this cavern? or was it borne here on theback of a slave?"
"It was lowered from above, over the edge of the cliff, by grass ropes."
"I believe you lie," I cried, now thoroughly shaken by his surlycontempt; but the fellow only leered at me, and I strode across thegreat room, where I might reflect beyond sight of his eyes. As Ipassed to the other side of the altar I observed a little gray daylightflooding the mouth of the cave. The sight recalled to mind anotherpossible danger.
"Cairnes," I called, "it is about the hour of sunrise. Down in thevillage I have noticed that whenever the sun touches the crest of theserocks the priests up here go forth, waving a flame into the air fromyonder platform. I fear if it were missed, the savages below wouldcome swarming up to discover the cause. Take a light from the pile,and wave it yonder."
The stubborn preacher grimly shook his head.
"Nay," he replied. "I have borne part enough in their heathen orgiesalready; it will take a lifetime to purge my soul. I bow down to Baalno more."
It was useless to argue with such as he, nor had I spirit to do it.
"Then keep close guard over the priest," I retorted; and, grasping atorch from among the burning mass upon the altar, made haste toward theouter stone.
My eyes have seldom gazed upon a grander view of nature than that whichgreeted me, as I crept around the great rock, and peered over the edgedown into that beautiful basin wherein the remnant of the Natchez hadestablished their home. The early sun had not as yet illumined thelower levels, and all beneath my dizzy perch remained wrapped in thesombre gray of promised dawn; the slightly rolling valley was dottedwith numerous square-topped huts of yellow straw, surrounded byponderous walls of gray stone or dun-colored earth, and the irregulargreen fields were intersected by a silvery ribbon of running water: thewhole composed such a fair picture of restful, peaceful beauty, thatfor the moment it held me at the edge in silent contemplation. Itappeared impossible that so sweet, secluded a spot could be thehabitation of savages, vengeful and cruel. Yet those black, movingdots down yonder, clustering in front of the various lodges, I knewwere naked heathen, blood-thirsty and vindictive. Now that theearliest rays of sunlight were beginning to tinge with gold the crestabove me, every expectant face in the tribe would be upturned toward myperch, wondering at the slightest delay in their morning signal. Myeyes becoming accustomed to the distance, could even distinguish thosefaint sparks of light where the priests below gathered before the greataltar-house to wave back response. If we would live for even anotherday there must be no failure now. Nerving myself for the task, Istepped forth on to the narrow shelf--no more than the merest black dotto the watching eyes beneath--and flung forth the flaming torch infiery welcome to the Sun. A shrill cry from the throats far belowreached my ears in the merest thread of sound, yet before I drew backfrom the edge, I witnessed a responsive signal of flame from the moundsummit, and inferred that no suspicion had been aroused in the minds ofthe guardians of these heathen rites. Satisfied of our present safetyI walked back to the great chamber, and beheld the old priest andCairnes glaring angrily at each other, while the latter nursed his legso tenderly as to make me apprehensive of further trouble having arisenbetween them.
"What now, brother Cairnes?" I questioned in some anxiety, noting as Icame nearer stains of fresh blood on his hose.
"Yonder black-faced cannibal buried his teeth in my calf," he growledgloomily. "Saints of Israel! I did merely lean over seeking anotherbit of meat, when he fastened on to me in that fashion, and hung therelike a bull-dog until I choked him loose. 'Tis my vote we kill theungodly man-eater, who has already feasted off your hand and my leg."
The energetic movement of his red head clearly evidenced the sincerityof his feelings, yet it was not in my heart to avenge our wrongs upon ahelpless prisoner.
"No, friend; we are white, not red. The pain will pass presently, andit would not be a Christian act to dispose thus of one bound in ourhands. I will give him other food to chew upon, then make fast hismouth while we go together and search out the secrets of this hole. Itwill be best to discover early whether this varlet speaks true or falseas to the chances of escape. Hand over here the meat and water."
I endeavored to question the fellow further while he sullenly partookof the food offered, but he gave back merely short, uncivil answers,and those of little value. Finally, despairing of learning more fromsuch a source, we securely bucked the sullen fool, rolled his bodyclose against the wall out of sight of any chance visitant, and thenmade preparation to explore our prison-house and discover for ourselvesthe mystery of this gloomy cave. The dense blackness showing directlyahead seemed to promise an extension of passageway into the rock; so,lighting a pine knot at the altar fire, and bidding Cairnes follow meclosely, I led forward down the narrow tunnel. The floor was uneven,while so irregular and rough appeared roof and walls as to convince methis was a natural excavation, probably the run-way for some ancientwatercourse. Yet, as I tested the nature of the stone with the pointof my hunting knife, it proved easily workable with tools, andapparently revealed softer material the deeper we progressed into thehill. Slightly beyond the entrance leading from the main chamber,several rudely fashioned steps led into a sort of gallery. This was ofconsiderable proportions, elevated perhaps ten or more feet above themain floor, its outer parapet formed of loose stones, through thechinks of which one might command unseen a wide view of the cavern andits al
tar. But, to our rather hasty inspection, this gallery containednothing except bare rock, and, after a single curious glance about wedrew back and moved on cautiously in exploration of the lower tunnel.This curved gradually toward the left, and held a rather steep pitchdownward. It was not above three feet in width until we had traversedfully fifty paces, when it suddenly broadened, and the fitful glare ofthe torch, which I held over my head, flashed back rays of light fromtwo horribly gleaming green eyes. For an instant I believed we hadinvaded the lair of some wild animal, and drew back quickly, my hand onthe knife hilt.
"Hell's kitchen!" I exclaimed nervously, "but the den has an occupantalready."
"Ay, and of a kind common enough in these hills, but nothing fit toaffright a servant of the true God," echoed Cairnes, striding past me."I am not wont to fear heathen idols, Master Benteen, nor will I bearback now before those green eyes."
As he spoke he laid rough hand on the thing, and I heard a sharp rattleof metal against wood.
"Come hither friend," he called, with a laugh, "'tis no worse thananother painted devil we are called to face. Surely it is you who havethe faint heart now."
"The glow of the torch blinded me to all except the green stones," Iexplained, coming forward and throwing the radiance of the flame fullupon the hideous object. "Saint George! 't is of no beauty to my sighteven now, and, as you say, of small fear to Christian heart. Thesaints defend us! What was that? As I live, I heard English speech!"
He was earnestly engaged in an endeavor to detach a bit of dull metalfrom the throat of the image, and scarcely deigned to glance around.
"Nay, there was no sound other than the chattering of your own tongue.This shining thing is gold, I believe."
"Let it be; 't is of small value here. I tell you I heard a strangevoice; so hold still and listen."
For a minute or more we waited in almost breathless suspense, nounusual sound greeting our ears. Then the Puritan sniffed disdainfully.
"You grow childish, Master Benteen," he growled roughly, turning backto his labor. "The dark has overstrained your nerves--"
"I bespeak help of de Englishmen for de sake of God!"
There was no mistaking the truth this time--a strange voice wasspeaking broken English almost at our very feet. Cairnes clattered tothe floor with a rough exclamation of surprise, while I stared vainlyat the idol, from which the sound apparently came.
"In Heaven's name, who are you?" I asked earnestly, "and where are youwho make appeal to us?"
"I am Andre Lafossier, native of France, for two months past a prisonerto these savages. If you are Christian men I beseech assistance."
"Nor do you ask vainly. Are you behind the wooden image?"
"Ay, in a small room hollowed out from the rock."
"Except for that are you free to aid us in your escape?"
"No, Monsieur; I am lamed in limb, and fastened to the stone by a metalband."
A hoarse growl of rage burst from the throat of the Puritan. "Prophetsof God!" he roared. "Surely we are the selected instruments of theLord sent hither for the salvation of this worthy man; we are thesoldiers of Gideon, the chosen of the Most High."
Before I could lift hand or voice in interference he had braced hismassive shoulder against the towering figure of wood, and, with amighty heave sent the monster crashing over upon the rock floor,himself sprawling beside it as it fell. As they came down together ina cloud of dust, an opening was revealed behind the stone pedestal onwhich the idol had stood. Torch in hand I instantly crept forward. Ifound myself in what was little more than the merest cell, yet dimlyillumined by a single beam of light streaming downward as ifpenetrating through some slight crevice in the rock. The narrow hole,for it was hardly more, was bare of all furnishing; both walls andfloor were damp, but there were remnants of coarse food and a pannikinof water.
Its sole occupant sat cross-legged on the hard floor, bound about thewaist with a band of metal. One end of this was attached to the wallin such a manner that the prisoner could neither rise to his feet norlie down. Never have these wandering eyes of mine looked upon a figuremore pathetic. For an instant I stood there, swaying upon my feet asthough from sickness, staring at him incredulously. His thin, pale,effeminate face was rendered wonderfully piteous by the depth ofsuffering so plainly revealed within the great, black, appealing eyes.So peculiarly delicate were the features, so slender the fragile form,about which a frayed and rusty robe clung loosely, that for a moment Iactually believed I was looking upon a young girl. So strong was thisimpression that I drew back, almost abashed. This slight pause enabledCairnes to regain his feet and press past me. As his eager glance fellupon that slender, crouching figure, I observed how suddenly his eyeshardened, his whole expression changed.
"You are a priest of Rome!" he exclaimed harshly, staring down.
The white, girlish face brightened instantly, the two thin handsplucking forth from some fold in the tattered robe a small silvercrucifix. At sight of this the stern-mouthed Puritan drew sharplyback, as if he feared contamination from the symbol.
"_Oui, Monsieur_," answered the soft voice, with an odd note of joy init. "I am of the Society of Jesus."
"'T is plain to see. What do you here?"
The priest smiled gently, his eyes dimming with tears fixed upon thecross.
"'Tis strange question. Surely Monsieur knoweth little of our Order,or he would not need to ask. We are soldiers of Christ, commissionedfor war, even to life or death. We ask nothing but the privilege ofservice, and the command of our superior. I am named missionary untothe savage tribes of this river. It has been the will of God that Isuffer in order that through me some souls born into heathendom maythus be redeemed from the torments of the damned."
The sectary's rough, gray face reddened until it was nearly the colorof his hair.
"'Tis false!" he growled, smiting one hand hard upon the other inanger. "You only lead the way straight to hell with your falsedoctrine. Have you made any converts to the Roman harlot in thistribe?"
"Nay, Monsieur, I cannot lay claim to such reward." His eyes slowlyuplifted to the face of his questioner. "Jesu hath not as yet openedbefore my understanding the way which leadeth to their hearts. I canbut work, and pray for guidance. I have only baptised one who wasdying of a fever, and sprinkled with holy water an infant, unknown toits mother. It is not much, yet I bless the good Mary for thesalvation of those precious souls."
"Saints of Israel! do you think that mummery saved them?"
"Surely yes, Monsieur; is it not so taught of our Order?"
I shall never forget the look upon Cairnes's face. At the moment Ibelieved him wrestling with temptation to strike the helpless man, soirritated was he by these confident words of Romish faith. Determinedto prevent discussion, I elbowed him aside, and bent down over thefastenings of the Jesuit.
"Enough of this," I said sternly, barely glancing at Cairnes. "Keepthe rest of your Puritanical sermonizing for a conventicle. We havehere a fellow-Christian to be rescued from the savages; this is no timeto jangle over creeds."
"A fellow-Christian! I hold no fellowship with such; he is but anemissary of a false religion, a slave to the Evil One."
"Enough, I say," and I rose to my feet fronting him. "I care littlewhich is right in doctrine, you or he. Here is a man begging aid of usin extremity. Surely the priest has suffered for the sake of Christ,regarding whom you speak so freely. So have done with dogma, and playthe man a while--press here with your strength on this knife-bladeuntil I bend back the metal and set him free."
He yielded, ungraciously enough, to my command, giving so good a turnto the steel with his vice-like fingers that in another moment theJesuit was released from the wall. Slowly and painfully, clinging fastto my hand for aid, the man arose and stood before us, swaying wearily,his thin lips pressed tightly together as if he would stifle a cry ofpain.
"Are you suffering?" I asked, greatly moved by the expression of agonyimprinted on his pall
id face.
"It will pass, Monsieur," he answered bravely, trying to smile at me."'Tis strange the spirit of man is so enslaved to the flesh that onecannot wholly master a bit of physical pain. No doubt I am somewhatcramped from my long imprisonment, and, perchance, my wounds have notrightly healed."
"Are you wounded? I beg you permit me to attend to that. I possesssome small skill in the bandaging and dressing of cuts."
His eyes rested upon me with all the tenderness of a woman.
"I truly thank you, Monsieur, but it is beyond your skill to aid me,even were you of the school of Paris. They be of a savage nature,which God alone may beautify."
He slightly lifted his long black robe as he spoke, and may themerciful Father forgive the oath which sprang to my lips as I gazed inhorror at the disfiguration--two fleshless limbs, one without even thesemblance of a foot, merely a blackened, charred stump rested on therock floor.
"Mother of God!" I sobbed, "it has been burned off!"
"Ay," he returned, in all gentleness, covering the awful sight. "Yetwere they gladly given for Christ's sake."
"I doubt that not," gazing in wonder at his girlish face. "But tellme, who were guilty of such fiendish cruelty--the savages of thistribe?"
"Two months ago it was done in the valley below, in the village of theNatchez," his eyes again upon the crucifix. "Yet dwell not upon it,Monsieur, for it is so little I can hope to do for the glory of God.It may be I am not even worthy of martyrdom."
"So the Natchez did that!" the breath hissing between my teeth. "Wherewas their gentle-hearted Queen?"
"I know not, Monsieur, if they have a Queen. I saw none exercisingauthority excepting priests of their strange worship. It was the chiefpriest who held me in the flame."
I crushed back the hot, useless words burning on my lips, and turned tolook at the Puritan. We had conversed in English, and he must havecomprehended every word, yet there was no softening in the glint of hishard, gray eyes.
"Hear you the priest's story, sirrah?" I asked, feeling stronginclination to vent my spleen on him for such bull-headedness. "Is henot one to honor rather than pick a quarrel with in such place as this?"
"'T is no quarrel I seek, nor am I like to question the fanaticalcourage of a Jesuit. But I tell you his teaching is false, an outrageon the true religion of the saints, and I am of a strain which cannever companion with any of that black-robed breed. Call me what yeplease, Master Benteen, but I am too old a man, too long indoctrined inthe faith, ever to acknowledge brotherhood with hirelings of the Romishchurch."
"Companion with whom you please," I retorted savagely. "But I tell youthis, preacher, and once for all,--you 'll bear yourself like a humanbeing to this poor lad while I 'm with you, or else make answer to me.Is that plain? I care nothing for your dogma, or your hair-splitting,but I know what fair play is between man and man,--ay, and mean to haveit here, even if it costs you a split head."
"I beg you will both be at peace, Messieurs," broke in the soft,caressing voice at my elbow. "There can be no cause for comradesquarrelling over me. I am not worthy a ruptured friendship. Yet Ifail to understand any occasion for your seeming trouble; has the olderman some reason to distrust my robe?"
"Reason! Saint George! 'tis precious little that ever bothers him.The fellow is a Puritan preacher--of the same breed as theHuguenots--and possesses a head as hard as an oaken plank."
I nearly laughed at the unrestrained expression of aversion which sweptthe girlish face. An instant the black eyes lost their gentleness, thethin fingers clutched the silver cross.
"Mother of God! a heretic! a preacher of that doctrine! Never beforehave I met his kind, nor do I care now to make close acquaintance. APuritan! _Sainte Marie_, have mercy! Yet surely in such stress asthis we may for the time overlook our differences in faith, and be asmen together? Is it not God's will? But I know little of conditions.Is there some path open for escape from here? Then will I let thisPuritan be, save for a prayer to the Virgin."
"I fear there is none, unless you know of some back opening to thisrock hole."
He shook his head sadly, his gaze still on Cairnes.
"None, Monsieur; the passage endeth here."
"Then the three of us are safely cooped for those savages to work theirwill upon. No pleasant thought that, yet little good can arise fromlosing hope. For one, I fight it out, and let others do the praying.Let us retrace our way to the big room, where we can hold council inmore comfort; perchance we may find yet some opening to the upper air.Cairnes, lay hold upon the other side, and help to bear back this lamedman to the altar."
I doubted greatly his compliance with my order, and determined tosettle this affair between us without more delay. But he came forward,unwillingly enough and muttering.